


Distant, Mopey, Needy

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Caretaking, Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-14 09:24:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20189989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: When Steve gets moody he tends to push Danny further away.Danny decides to push back.





	Distant, Mopey, Needy

**Author's Note:**

> Another story I’d started months ago, found the ending for. This probably should be a [BYS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374970/chapters/12413861) but it’s not. Mostly because [ Can’t Cope ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20164645) probably should have been a [TBM](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560741/chapters/12825547) and it wasn’t.

Steve’s been a little... well, _distant and mopey_ is perhaps the best way Danny can think to put words to it. He has this deeper sense of it, a fuller understanding of the mood behind it (because of that Steve-radar of his) but he’s never been entirely sure what words should go with it. 

_Needy_, maybe. 

And the thing is with Steve (and Danny knows this from many years of dealing with Steve’s surprisingly varied moods) is that when Steve starts to feel needy, he doesn’t go all soft and sweet and pliant like Danny does. No, the big oaf couldn’t possibly be so easy to manage. 

When Steve feels the most needy is when he pushes Danny away the most. 

The problem is that Danny’s never really figured that one out. He’s never found the right way of fixing it, of crossing that created distance, breaking through that hardened shell, softening that steely resolve. 

It’s never been anything Danny’s done that’s shifted it. Instead, either something happens that makes Steve break, and then Danny can get in and comfort him. Or somehow Steve gets past it on his own, leaving Danny completely at a loss for a good few days in the meantime. 

Well, lost, and bearing the brunt of Steve’s damaged, hurt, wounded frustrations.

So, maybe because of that history weighing on his mind, or maybe because he’s getting old and grumpy, or maybe just because of how the stars are aligned, this time Danny’s determined it will be different.

He tries simple things at first. 

Giving Steve the keys to the Camaro before he takes them himself, ordering that Indian food Steve loves without him having to ask (because Steve does ask about that now), letting him comfort eat MREs without Danny teasing or scolding him, taking Eddie for his walk so Steve can swim for extra long. 

And maybe they help a little. Maybe they ease the tension just a bit. 

But it’s not nearly enough.

So next Danny tries for some slightly more proactive things. 

He makes his grandmother’s lasagna and sneaks it into Steve’s fridge. And he knows Steve notices, because he brings some for lunch. And there’s a little extra bounce in Steve’s step that day, but he doesn’t say anything to Danny. And that’s not exactly all that weird because they both sometimes do that—leave food for each other, as though they will secretly admit they don’t always do the best job of looking after themselves. It’s just one of those things they sometimes do and don’t talk about. 

As is putting in a load of laundry. Or doing the dishes. You know, while waiting for the other to get dressed or shower or whatever. It’s not something they’ve tended to think too much about it, it’s just a few simple ways they’ve found over the years to help each other out without really admitting it’s what they’re doing.

Steve sometimes adds vacuuming to his list of things he’ll do at Danny’s while waiting. And it’s not that Danny never does that for Steve. (Yeah, okay, it is that he never does that for Steve.) But mostly that’s because Steve’s house never gets as bad as Danny’s does. Only it is now. It’s really bad. 

So maybe the sight of Danny using a vacuum cleaner (which, alright it’s possible Steve’s never seen him do that) but it feels to Danny as though it makes a rather sizable impression on Steve.

And maybe that’s why Danny notices that Steve’s lawn looks like it hasn’t been mowed in ages. 

And, alright, that’s another thing he’s probably not done at his own place in a while (or possibly ever) mostly because Steve gets irritated at the length of the grass long before Danny does. But it’s not like he spent the summers of his childhood mowing all the lawns in the cul-de-sac for no reason whatsoever. 

Danny knows how to mow a lawn, thank you, is his point.

Danny also knows how to prune the plumbago that threatens to eclipse the sidewalk. And he knows how to tie back the palm-like things that shove their ostentatiously tropical foliage in your face out near the grill.

And maybe there’s something to all that. To doing the things _he_ ordinarily wouldn’t do. Or to giving Steve a break from the things he usually bears the brunt of. 

But it shifts something. And it’s not huge. It’s not as much a shift as Danny probably would have liked. 

But what it _does_ do is help him to decide that he needs to focus less on the stuff they usually do... and more on some things maybe they haven’t ever done before.

Which is when he realizes he’s got this whole head full of ideas he thinks would be good “Steve things.” Things Steve would maybe like to do on a date, for example. 

And it’s not like they’re terribly serious things. A lot of them are of the slightly sarcastic “Oh I bet Steve would enjoy something weird like that” nature. 

But Danny really isn’t in the mood for this mopey phase of Steve’s to go on for as long as he knows it might, or to get as bad as he knows it can. And Danny’s already seen that he can have a positive impact on Steve’s mopiness. (And the idea that he can influence Steve’s mood isn’t exactly a novel one, but sometimes without Chin or Kono reminding him of it, well, maybe he’s let that slide a little too much lately.)

Anyhow, the point is he decides _what the hell, may as well give it a go_. And he has to ignore the warning inside his head that he’s letting himself a little _too_ close to the very dangerous notion of _what dating Steve would be like_. 

But Steve’s his best friend, and he’s tired of not being able to get through to him when he gets moody like this. And if finding the way to do that means breaking his own heart a little, well maybe that’s a risk he’s willing to take. 

  
Wednesday nights when Danny doesn’t have the kids, they usually do pizza and a movie together. (Because Steve worked out years ago that if they _didn’t_ do something Danny was invariably in a cruddy mood the next day.) And usually Steve submits to Danny’s preferences on those nights. He doesn’t even fight it or make snarky comments anymore, just lets it be a Danny night.

So on Wednesday when Danny ignores all of his own most sacred rules and shoves a box of ham and pineapple pizza into Steve’s hands, and presses play on some completely over the top action adventure apocalyptic war movie, maybe the glistening in Steve’s wide open eyes and the softly incredulous noise that escapes his lips makes Danny grin. Just a little. 

And maybe he’s a little hurt when it seems like Steve’s in an even worse mood the next day. 

But that just pushes him to take things further. And possibly it should raise another warning flag in his mind that he has so many options to choose from, but he skips over a bunch of the similarly subtle ones, and goes right for one of the bigger, grander, more over-the-top ones. 

Which means borrowing the truck. 

And the thing is. Steve doesn’t really like Danny driving his truck. 

There are some trust issues there, alright? And maybe some sightline issues, and really it’s more like driving a boat, the thing is so huge. He knows, the point is, that if he asks, Steve’s likely to say _no_. And likely, too, to push him to explain why he wants the truck anyway.

So Danny risks Lou’s curiosity instead, and bribes him with a sandwich from their favorite deli, to borrow the truck from Steve for him. And mostly Lou’s mollified by the sandwich, but his dark eyes sparkle with a knowing Danny pretends to ignore, and hopes he’ll forget. (Which is about as likely as Danny suddenly sprouting wings, but it’ll have to do.)

Once he has the truck, and an invented afternoon appointment, he sets about his task. 

When he’s finished, right as the work day is ending, he heads over to Steve’s, pulling up just as he’s getting out of the Camaro. And, alright, Danny expected a bigger reaction from Steve than the one he gets—which is a kind of blearily _Oh, you had my truck, okay_....

Which is why Danny doesn’t even hesitate, he jumps out of the truck, grabs hold of Steve’s hand, grumbles “That’s it, enough,” and shoves him into the passenger seat.

Steve sighs. “Danny, I’m not really—” he starts, but Danny stops him with one look.

“Shut up. You’re coming with me, just shut up.”

And, remarkably, he does.

Even more remarkably, Steve refrains from making any sort of snide comments, not even when it takes Danny three tries to get the truck out of the driveway and back on the road. Not even when he gets turned around and has to pull over and look at his phone at the directions. Not even when they pull up at a tiny, deserted beach, down a secluded, hidden lane, and not even when Danny tells Steve to stay put until he tells him to come out.

All of which is probably not helping Danny’s heart rate. Steve’s easy compliance, that is. He’s torn between thinking it’s a good sign and being terrified it’s a really dangerous one. Still, he gets on with his set up, and once it’s ready, he goes to the passenger door, opens it, and stepping sort of somewhat unintentionally into the role of gallant date, holds his hand out to Steve.

His pulse flares even more when Steve nearly grins. But he takes Danny’s hand, steps down out of the truck, and walks with Danny to the back.

And probably Danny’s just hopelessly pathetic, but he swears it’s all worth it for this. Worth every worry, every frustration, every everything. It’s all worth it when Steve’s face lights up like Liberty State Park on the Fourth of July.

He turns to Danny, jaw quite literally hanging open. “What’s all this?”

Danny presses his lips together and shrugs. “An attempt?”

“It’s more than an attempt, buddy, this is amazing.” And he walks forward, taking the sight before him slowly in. The twinkly lights (thanks to the truck’s own completely over the top electricity set up), the pillows, the blankets, the cooler. Steve’s guitar. 

Danny climbs in, leaving his shoes on the tailgate, and opens the cooler, pulling out two Longboards, offering one to Steve, who hesitates, head tilted just slightly, regarding Danny with a bemused expression. But he shakes it off, and follows Danny up into the bed of his truck that’s been set up like some sort of Instagram-worthy date night photo shoot—even Danny sees it that way, he just doesn’t really care.

Steve takes a long swig of his beer, watching Danny closely the whole time, then nods towards the cooler. “What else you got in there?”

Danny chuckles, slightly embarrassed at the answer. “Well, I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so there’s chicken salad and tortellini salad, and there’s cold fried chicken and macaroni salad, and there’s cheese and bread and fruit....”

And probably it’s just the twinkly lights, but Steve’s eyes seem to glisten for a moment, and he swallows, but then he smiles. “How are you so amazing?”

Dangit there’s that awkward laugh again. _Get it together, _he scolds himself, then shrugs. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Pizza and the movie was nice,” Steve says softly.

“Yeah, that didn’t exactly seem to last,” Danny says without really thinking. And yep, Steve flinches.

“That was... god, I’m sorry. I was being a jerk. I’ve _been_ being a jerk. I’m so sorry, Danny.”

Shrugging again, dismissively this time, hoping he doesn’t need to reply because he’s not sure he’s ready for where this conversation might go, Danny focuses on the food. He pulls one of the containers out, sets it down on the makeshift table the top of the cooler makes, then reaches back in for something else, but is stopped by Steve’s hand on his arm.

“This really is amazing. Thank you.”

And they settle in, picking easily through the food. A little salad here, some chicken there, some bread with the cheese spread roughly on it, a few more bites of salad. And it’s all wonderful in that why-does-food-always-taste-better-outside kind of way, and it’s nice. It is. 

It’s just not _enough_.

They wash the food down with more beer, and Danny settles back against the pillows to look up at the stars overhead, and Steve hesitates, but then grabs his guitar, and he starts casually strumming, something soft and vaguely islandy, and Danny likes it. He likes it maybe a little too much. And he finds he’s watching Steve, and not the stars, and yes, he knows what that means. He knows very well what that means. 

But then, he’s not exactly been pretending terribly successfully about his motivation for all of this, not even to himself. 

Which is when he realizes that of course Lou saw it too. And for some reason, that’s what makes him bold. That’s what makes him decide. And not because of some kind of competitive, masculine, if-he-doesn’t-get-something-out-of-this-Lou-would-be-disappointed-in-him-and-give-him-a-hard-time (although that’s _highly _probable) kind of thing. 

No, it’s more like it validates it for him. That it’s okay, that it’s real. And that it’s okay.

So when Steve sets his guitar aside, and he seems to hesitate about what to do next, Danny sits up. And he moves closer to Steve. And he smiles slightly uneasily, but then he scoots right up against Steve, and he reaches down and wraps the fingers of his left hand with Steve’s. And with his other hand he reaches behind Steve’s head, thrilling at the feel of that soft, bristly hair on his finger tips. And he pulls, gently but insistently, until their mouths are millimeters apart.

“I really want to kiss you,” he whispers. “Can I kiss you, please?”

And Steve makes the softest sound, and he nods, and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and he waits. Holding so still Danny almost thinks he’s not breathing. And so, so slowly, Danny leans into it. More like melting together than actively kissing. And there’s another, deeper, needier sound from Steve, and Danny responds with his own, and suddenly it’s not so slow and melty anymore, now it’s electric and desperate and they pull apart after not very long, only it’s more like being pushed apart, by the energy sparking between them. 

“Well. That’s new.” Steve’s panting, but he’s smiling, and it’s closer to his usual smile than he’s been in ages, and it eases Danny’s heart immeasurably. 

“Good new?” Danny asks, because yes, he needs the affirmation.

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, Danny, _really_ good new.”

“You sure?” He asks. “Because I dunno how much more of this I can take, babe.” 

“How much of what, Danno?”

“How much of you being a moody jerk and me not being able to do anything about it.”

Steve sighs. “But you have,” he replies, softly, almost painfully. “So much. You’ve helped so much. It’s just that... well, sometimes you _helping_ makes it _worse_, because it just makes me want _more_....”

And Danny’s initial reaction is to laugh, but before the sound even starts to come out, he _gets_ it. And he almost chokes on swallowing the laugh, because yes, okay, Danny’s been so focused on fixing Steve’s mood, he really hasn’t put any thought into what’s been behind it. 

But it’s so fucking obvious now. 

And the thing is, he _gets_ it. Ohh, does he get it. He knows that feeling. (He expresses it differently, of course, because he’s not a Neanderthal, but he gets it.) 

Having close, observant, warm, solicitous attention paid to you by the object of your affection is wonderful, of course it is. But it can really sting when mostly what it does is reinforce precisely what your relationship _isn’t_. 

And as soon as he’s seen that, he realizes his recent actions have probably been really hard on Steve. Because he’s been pushing, right up into that space Steve had been trying to create for himself. That space he’d felt he needed, to keep the hurt away. 

Danny knows because he’s done it too.

And Steve sees Danny get it, and he bites his lip adorably, and he shrugs. 

“Yeah, fair enough,” Danny says, and he pulls Steve back against him. “This is why they say communication is so important in relationships, you realize.”

“Mmmm,” Steve replies against Danny’s chest, and okay, that’s new too, and he loves it. “That’s never really been our strong suit,” he mutters, but mostly he’s nestling against Danny, so it comes out muffled and slurred, and it makes Danny’s toes tingle. 

“No,” Danny allows. “It hasn’t. But then, neither has kissing, and, uh, I plan on that being somewhat regular now. So, um, maybe we can work on the talking, too.” He’s been running his fingers through Steve’s hair. The opposite of _absently_. And he’s pretty sure Steve’s loving it as much as he is, but he pulls back to look Danny in the eye anyway. 

“Somewhat?”

“Huh?”

“Only ‘somewhat’ regular, Danno?”

Danny closes his eyes on the eye roll he can’t prevent, and watches the smirk form on Steve’s lips. “Well I guess that depends on how well we do with the talking,” he points out. 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve acquiesces. “But let’s work on the kissing a bit more first because I have a feeling it’s gonna come in handy when we don’t do so well with the talking.”

And Danny thinks probably he should object to that, but the point is a valid one, and more than that, it’s a really compelling one, and Steve doesn’t seem like he plans on letting Danny object anyway, because he closes in on him, his body’s heat filling Danny’s senses like nothing he’s ever known before, and this time when their lips meet, it sweeps everything else completely away. And Danny lets it. 


End file.
